1 by krystal languell
&
Robert Alan Wendeborn
from Diamonds in the Flesh
Needing some time to get used to it again, all the talking.
A bitch is a bitch. For real? For real. The popular narrative leaves a chalky mouthfeel. Fun li’l veinlet. That’s the thing about being the party guy. |
Even if it’s the same tone, I can still tell the difference
between your skin and a shit ton of sequins. Is this your lighter? Is this your lighter? Well, it’s mine now. Begging for it. |
*
My mind was somewhere else. That’s the thing
about the mess of my life. I tell it wrong because they keep the details from me. Grocery shopping should be done solo. |
First it’s as a favor, then as a chore. Can’t decide
if it’s easier or harder to be a feminist with facial hair. I’m ringing this bell in my coffin and sippin’ on these boozes. Pages turning. |
*
That’s the thing about addiction, about class-jumping,
about confession. The common through-line is difficulty. I was a teenage opt-out. I’m not dangerous. Do I really feel as bad as that. |
An amateur poet and professional doctor. Anecdotes
from gravediggers are probably trustworthy. Finger your way through The Little Mermaid. You’re in a Beyoncé song. You're immortal. |
*
Professionalism is a mean trait to throw around.
Like good citizen, it connotes high marks on standardized tests. Congratulations on your ass- imilation. To hell with entrepreneurs. |
Fear is getting progressively normal. Thin at best
are the strings of my autonomy. The number one search result for power money sex and drugs and critical theory. |
*
You can have a small rabbitry that no one will
know about. And do your own grout if the goal is just a closed environment. In the brick shithouse of my friend-heart, let’s talk about it. |
Blame the altitude on everything. Drinking whiskey
again; the Kentucky blindfold. I’m using her acceptance letter to Bradley as a bookmark. Stand up, where god can see you better. |
*
Isn't this how Whitney Houston died? Keep an eye on me.
The third winningest world's strongest man. When MJ died, I was at the Alligator bar eating my free pizza. I did a shot of Jim Beam Black. |
Rub a dub dub, blacked out in a tub. Pizza is one of the
little victories against the darkness. My iPod is broken. I
shall purchase another iPod, post haste. Just eat until you
feel better. Not
dead nor dying.
little victories against the darkness. My iPod is broken. I
shall purchase another iPod, post haste. Just eat until you
feel better. Not
dead nor dying.
KRYSTAL LANGUELL was born in South Bend, Indiana. A chapbook and a full-length collection of poetry are forthcoming: BE A DEAD GIRL (Argos Books, 2014) and GRAY MARKET (Coconut, 2015). In 2014, FASHION BLAST QUARTER was published as a poetry pamphlet by Flying Object and a chapbook, LAST SONG, came out with Dancing Girl Press. A core member of the Belladonna* Collaborative, she also edits the journal Bone Bouquet.
ROBERT ALAN WENDEBORN is a beer maker guy for Ska Brewing and lives in Durango, Colorado. His first book, The Blank Target, will be published by The Lettered Streets Press in 2015. His prose and poetry have been in Sink Review, The Columbia Poetry Review, The Collagist and on form 228 stickers. He loves you.
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